Gene Hunt hated this part of town, this time of night. He detested striding through the pools of piss and puke ignoring the prostitutes, drug dealers and other nameless scum lingering on the rain soaked pavements. The urge to grab the nearest pimp and grind his face into the pavement was almost unbearable.
The streets of London were paved with shit.
Turning up the collar of his coat he glanced up at the sky, at the heavy clouds burning orange from the glow of the sodium lights. The sky in London was never truly dark, and Gene had trouble remembering the last time he had seen a star in the sky. Unbidden, a memory from his childhood flashed to the forefront of his mind… a green hill, an endless expanse of sky. A few moments when Gene Hunt had lain under the stars and truly known what it was like to be a child. Of course his dad kicked shit out of him when he got back home late for his tea… but the young Gene had figured it was worth the beating. Seemed like a hundred years from where he was now.
Every so often a car drove slowly past, sending up a wave of water onto the already soaked pavements. Business was poor. Not one of the prospective punters stopped. Gene couldn't blame them. It wasn't an attractive selection.
Several of the women called out to him as he walked by but they couldn't offer anything that he needed or desired… not anymore. There had been a time when Gene had been happy to accept certain favours in return for dropping charges or losing paperwork. He would never admit it, but Gene found it easier to look in the mirror since Sam Tyler had convinced him to stop all that bollocks.
Taking shelter in a doorway, Gene lit a cigarette, but the burn of tobacco couldn't disguise the stink of piss. God he needed a drink but he'd left his flask in the Quattro… safely parked several streets away. Right at that moment, he could think of at least a dozen other places where he would have preferred to meet his contact. And none of them involved walking through human excrement.
This hadn't been his choice.
He checked his watch, staring as the digits flicked over… 2 AM. Where the bloody hell was she? Ten minutes… he'd give her another ten minutes before heading home. This was nothing more than a waste of good drinking time. A police car drove past and Gene ducked back out of sight. Wouldn't look good if a plod saw him or even worse arrested him.
The tap of stiletto heels on the pavement pulled his attention back and he peered out into the pouring rain trying to make out the figure walking across the road. She didn't seem to be in any hurry, maintaining her character even as she stepped out of the rain and joined him in the shelter of the doorway.
Despite himself, Gene had to admire her balls… figuratively speaking. Either she was one hell of an actress or she really had been a prostitute in another life.
Gene rarely felt this out of control. Having one of his officers undercover was bad enough but the fact that it was Alex… Looking at her now, dressed in heels, stockings, a short skirt, he felt none of the usual stirrings of desire. She looked as tired and as worn down as the rest of the women here. The thick layer of makeup did nothing to disguise the emptiness in her eyes.
"You weren't meant to make contact for another week," he muttered, "This had better be worth it."
"Money first," she said.
She held out her hand, a smile playing across her lips as Gene pulled out his wallet.
"Cheeky mare."
"If you want me to maintain my cover I've got to bring back the cash."
She had a point.
"That enough?" he asked, handing over a handful of notes. Taking them from him, she started to shove them into her bra… only to stop when Gene grabbed her hand.
"What's this?" he demanded, turning over her arm revealing a long, livid bruise.
"Nothing."
She snatched her hand away from him.
"Bastard… Right, I'm pulling you out of there."
"No! Gene I am so, so close."
He could force the issue, but Bolly wasn't one to follow orders. Take her home now and Gene would bet his right testicle that she'd be back by morning.
"When?" he demanded, "Tell me how we end this Alex or I swear to God…"
"You'll what? Put on a pair of heels and take my place? I'd pay good money to see that."
"When?" he repeated, not about to back down. He wanted her back at Fenchurch East, where he could watch her arse… and not just literally. Gene didn't want to admit that he'd missed her. Or that he worried about her out here on her own.
"Three days," she replied.
"You sure?"
"Yes," she touched the bruise on her arm, "Yes I'm sure."
In the distance a car door slammed, and Alex looked back along the street, her eyes suddenly wide with fear. Gene started to turn but before he could complete the motion, she grabbed him, keeping his back firmly turned towards the street. The next thing he knew she had dropped to her knees. It should have been a realisation of his wildest fantasy. But he never imagined Bolly, kneeling in what looked like diced carrot, her face taut with fear.
"It's Slater," Alex hissed, "He's always watching us."
Gene could hear footsteps approaching. Reaching for Alex, he wound his fingers in her hair, wondering for a brief moment how far she would go to preserve this illusion… and whether he would let her. He couldn't. Gene pulled her to her feet. She struggled briefly in his grasp, but he shook his head,
"Sorry Bolls," he whispered as he backed her to the wall and covered her mouth with his own. Kissing her should have been a delightful experience but he couldn't fail to notice the tension in her body and the lack of response in his own.
Gene wasn't paying attention to the hand that she'd plunged down the back of his trousers or the leg that was wound around his hips. The footsteps were slowing… stopping… watching. Realising that he would probably lose a couple of fingers when this was all over, Gene slipped his hand under the skirt she was wearing, disappointed that he couldn't feel her skin through the leather of his gloves.
Her fingernails tore into the flesh at the base of his spine. She was scared, he could tell. Her body was trembling against his and not in a good way. Gene was acutely aware that they couldn't maintain this illusion for much longer. He was fairly certain that she'd didn't want this. Go any further and he might as well call it … his mind wouldn't even formulate the word.
Their audience wasn't going anywhere.
Just as he was starting to think about shooting the bastard, Gene felt Alex's body relax for just a moment. Her lips softened against his, almost as if she were apologising for something. Three seconds later he found out why. Alex's knee crashed into his groin and Gene found himself slumped against the wall, clutching his family jewels. She followed it up with her well-practiced right hook. His head snapped back, making contact with the bricks. For a second he thought he saw stars.
"What the f…" he muttered to himself as he looked up at her. It may have been a trick of the light, but Gene thought that he saw a tear run down her face.
She wiped her mouth and pulled her skirt down. Without a backward glance, she walked towards the man who had been watching them. The man swung his arm about Alex's shoulders and led her towards the waiting car.
Three days… Gene told himself… three days… then come hell or high-water he was bringing Bolly home.
